Pompous
by souteneurette
Summary: This story is very, very random. I s'pose it has a bit of EnjolrasMarius, but nothing that will make your hair bleed. :D Please RR. COMPLETE!


Enjolras. He never did have a liking for flowers. Or that feeling you get when you're at the beach, and your toes touch the warm sand. He didn't like puppies either. All he cared about was revolution. "Barricade!" this or "Fight!" that, and sometimes, when he'd think nobody was looking, he'd pretend he was a cheerleader. This was very amusing, and much more entertaining than one of his extensive speeches. Not that his speeches aren't wonderfully thought out! He was a good man. He had his dignity, and he was very... pompous. But I am Marius. Marius, the one and only whom my dear Cosette suffers from everyday. And as Marius, I had to find a way to change the way of this cold, harsh leader.  
Enjolras. I bought him a large bouquet of flowers, perfectly arranged into a little heart-shaped bundle of roses. It indeed looked pompous just like Enjolras himself was. I hadn't forgotten to have my law books in the arm opposite of the one holding the gift. His apartment looked quite deserted, and I was afraid that when I knocked, he might be aroused from his sleep. Accordingly, I knocked on the door a few times. This made me incredibly fascinated from the noise my knuckles would make against the hard wood, and I continued to knock. I was occupied for quite sometime before the door swung open. Tempted to knock on my leader's chest, I restrained myself. Enjolras would never do that to me. Save am I not strong and beautiful, but I am soft and harmless. Like a caterpillar. "Bonjour, mon beau!" I said gleefully. He was my lovely- the light of my eye, and the Heaven on my Earth!  
He gazed at me for a while, without saying anything, and I would've thought that he had fallen asleep before he groggily wiped away sleep from his eyes, and shut the door in my face. Enjolras never did like flowers, you see.  
Later that very afternoon, a warm, tingling sensation ran throughout my body. Pondering this for a while, I realized that I had to go to the bathroom. While I was taking care of that business, I was also reading the morning newspaper, which Eponine had delivered earlier. It smelled strongly of her parfûm, which would make a very pleasant bathroom scent. Anyway, Le journal Révolutionnaire Quotidien d'étudiant had nothing but rambles about how wonderful Inspector Javert is for finding a cure for bed-head... or bed- sideburns, if you want to be technical. Flipping through the pages, I noticed that there were ads about adopting animals. Just then, the most adorable sketch of a young Maltese, quite pompous in stature, caught my eye, and I fell in love right on the spot. It would be a perfect gift for my Enjolras! Oh, how happy he'd be when he'd see! And right after that decision, I was off and running, with my trousers half falling off.  
And there was another problem.  
I finally had found my way to the house where I would be picking up the dog. It was a cozy looking cottage, and looked somewhat like our barricade, if you get my meaning. I knocked on the door once or twice, but it came crashing down as soon as my hand pulled away. I entered, and I don't believe anyone was home, or else they'd be yelling at me and I'd be lying on my face flat on the pavement. Looking around, I was alarmed by a faint tinkling sound, sort of like a bell, rushing up behind me. When I turned around, a little white ball of fluff was barking at me, making a huge ruckus. Figuring maybe she wanted to be picked up, I reached out for her, but she ran away. She skidded across the floor like an overgrown broom. Except, she didn't have a large stick jutting out of her. Again, I turned away, and touched various silver objects upon empty tables, which were just beginning to tarnish. And then that tinkling noise came again. By now, I just know that she only wants attention, so I attempt to get her, but she barks, and runs away. My face contorts with anger, and I decide that it's no more Mr. Nice Revolutionary student. Following a long, drawn out chase, "Chloie" was safe in my jacket, and ready to be transported to Enjolras.  
Enjolras. He was walking about his apartment by now, and his hair probably looked more pompous than ever. I knocked on the door. God knows how much I prayed that this wonderful creature would come to my call. And finally, he did. Wearing his red vest, and a new pair of black trousers, he looked quite dapper. I held out the puppy, and she looked just so edible with the cute little hand knit sweater that she wore and the grand bow around her neck that had the colours of the French flag on it. Enjolras looked overjoyed, for the first time in his life, and actually invited me in. We had coffee, and we told stories of our rebellion and our hopes of a new tomorrow, of the better future that we anticipated. Something about this puppy made me wonder. Why was Enjolras so overjoyed, and why was he actually talking to me?  
Enjolras. He never did really like flowers, or poetry, or that wonderful scent of freshly baked cookies. But he liked Chloie. And that was better than anything. 


End file.
